Surprises
by minachandler
Summary: Post-3x23. It's Oliver's birthday, and also, Felicity decides, their second date a week and a half into their road trip. Though he doesn't really want to celebrate, he goes along with it for Felicity's sake. But then her strappy black dress happens (yes, that one) and he forgets why he was protesting in the first place.


Oliver Queen was drunk.

Well, 'drunk' was perhaps a strong word. When Diggle had said Oliver had spent most of his twenties in a hangover, he had certainly not been exaggerating, and Oliver had since developed a rather strong resistance to alcohol. And after everything he had been through while in the Bratva, that resistance had only grown stronger, to the point that Oliver had found it relatively easily to go out in the field as the Arrow even after a couple glasses of vodka, although this wasn't exactly a common occurrence.

But today was his birthday, and he had found himself drinking a tad more scotch than usual – not enough for him to feel unsteady, but enough to loosen him up and help him get around the memories that immediately sprang to mind when he thought about birthdays and presents and celebrations. Oliver had told Felicity about Tommy over dinner (she had booked a reservation, despite his protests, in a Turkish restaurant a short drive away from their motel), regaling her with tales of the childhood he had shared with his best friend and discovering that maybe, just maybe, his birthday was worth celebrating after all. And perhaps Oliver had raised that extra glass (or three) just for Tommy – he knew his friend would probably approve, if their legendary parties were anything to go by.

So he wasn't drunk. Not really. But it would be fair to say he was still feeling the rush of the alcohol in his blood as they sped down the road towards their motel. He could feel the wind blowing through his hair (which was still close-cropped but at least long enough for Oliver to feel like the last vestiges of Al-Saheem were no longer lingering on his appearance) and Felicity's chatter plus the sound of the engine filling his ears.

And when he got out of the passenger side of the Porsche (Felicity had insisted on driving, and he had been too content to argue – especially when it was obvious she was more sober than him) and Felicity joined him at his side moments later, he realised once again that the dress she was wearing showed far more skin than anything else he had seen her in. It was black and strappy and low cut, with cutouts that exposed the creamy skin of her torso and showed off most of her back. She looked up at him and smiled, her lips painted a vibrant, sensuous red that made it hard for him to think straight.

"Have I told you how much I love you in that dress?" he murmured, noticing as he slung his arm around her waist that she was shivering. But at his words, she laughed.

"More than a few times now," she teased, and she shuddered in a way that was simultaneously endearing and arousing.

He coughed. "You look chilly, though."

"One of the only downsides of wearing this dress. I thought it would be warmer."

As soon as she said that, Oliver whipped off his suit jacket in a flash, placing it carefully around her shoulders before his arm was back around her middle. She sighed, leaning into him, pulling his jacket closer around her. "Better?" he asked.

"Mm. Much better."

He smiled, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Good."

"You know, I've missed you wearing your suits," she said after a minute, when they were nearing the door to their room.

"You have?"

"Yeah. I kind of have a thing for them. And ties. God, I have always wanted to take that tie off you when you were CEO."

It never failed to amuse Oliver when she said things like that. He realised now that maybe she was drunker than he initially thought – although like him, she had a pretty good resistance to alcohol too. Even before they were together, he remembered Felicity easily downing Anatoly's vodka alongside him in the foundry and on the plane to Nanda Parbat. He smiled to himself at the memory, only pausing in his reverie when he realised they had reached their motel room. Felicity reached into her purse for her key, and after unlocking the door, she went inside.

He followed her in, waiting until she had taken off her glasses and dropped her purse on the desk at the far end of the room before he wrapped his arms around her waist and started kissing the back of her neck.

"What's this for?" she asked, turning in his arms, still with his jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders. It dwarfed her, to the point that it was nearly as long as her dress (although that wasn't saying much – not that Oliver was complaining). And when she reached up to touch his cheek, the jacket fell off completely, revealing her bare arms and shoulders.

"For being right," he said, and he kissed her fingers.

She shrugged. "I usually am."

"You always are."

Felicity laughed, stepping out of her heels. "About what specifically?"

"Birthdays aren't all bad. And, sure, they bring back memories, especially with Tommy, and my mother, but I realised that they would rather I… created new memories than dwell on the old ones. Particularly considering I am so –" he paused briefly, bending his knees to kiss her "– so happy to be alive right now, to be with you, and you reminded me that that is always worth celebrating. So thank you."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Her tongue darting out to lick up and down his bottom lip in a way that made him grip onto her bare back even tighter, until her body was flush against his.

"You're welcome," she said eventually, her eyes – lined with soft grey pencil – sparkling with affection as she looked up at him. "I'm glad we finally went on our second date. It was long overdue."

"If I knew what you were planning on wearing, I would have put my hood in a dumpster a long time ago," Oliver breathed, and his heart never failed to soar when he succeeded in making her laugh.

Then she tilted her head to one side, catching his right hand and tracing the lines on his palm.

"You know what the upside to wearing this dress is?" she said.

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "What?"

She guided his hand towards her breast. "Guess."

Immediately, he realised she wasn't wearing a bra, and he slowly ran his thumb over the centre of her breast, pressing until he found her nipple. He could feel it stiffening at his touch through the fabric, and seconds later, his lips were on hers again, pushing her so she was pinned in between his body and the desk. Her hand wandered downwards, cupping him through his pants, and he groaned in her mouth. He reciprocated the movement, still kissing her, his hand moving down until he had lifted up the hem of her dress and was palming her thigh, before his hand moved up and he was pressing two fingers into her through her panties. He watched her hungrily as he pushed deeper, fingers still tangled with damp fabric, and Felicity arched her hips against him.

But after a moment, she reached up to touch his tie, running her hand up and down the length of the silky material. Oliver looked up, then, withdrawing his hand and unable to stop himself smirking. "So you were serious about that?" he asked playfully.

"Of course I was," she replied, still fiddling with the knot, and before long, she had undone the tie so either end was hanging down his neck. But then she paused, her hand stilling after she had undone a couple of his shirt buttons, and Oliver took over, unbuttoning his shirt with speed that surprised even himself. He looked at her as he tossed the garment onto a nearby chair. She looked deep in thought, with the expression Oliver remembered she usually had when she was in the process of hacking a particularly complex database.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's your birthday," she said finally, and he laughed.

"Yeah, I know it is," he said, amused but also nonplussed. "Hence the whole dinner thing, I thought –"

"Tell me what you want," Felicity interrupted.

"I don't understand."

"It's your birthday. So this –" she gestured at herself and then at him "– this should be about you. Just you. So tell me what you want and I'll give it."

"Anything?" he said, and he tried to sound teasing, but he could tell she meant it when she nodded.

"Whatever you want. Within reason, of course," she added, and they both laughed.

"Can you…" Oliver started to say, but he hesitated, something that Felicity noticed.

"Can I what?"

His resolve growing stronger (she said _anything_ , didn't she?), he tried again. "Can you… show me… what you like?"

It seemed to take a few seconds for it to click for her, which Oliver would have found unusual if his sudden prudishness were not to blame for her confusion.

"As in… touch myself?"

"You don't have to," he started to say, but she silenced him with a kiss.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, already hoisting up her dress so she could take off her panties. "I did say anything."

"You just seemed… surprised."

"I am," Felicity admitted, and he watched as she untangled her underwear from one ankle, her hand on his stomach for support. "I figured you would want something… for you. Not to see me get myself off. Although I am totally not complaining."

Oliver laughed. "Believe me," he told her, placing his hands on either side of her waist so he could lift her onto the desk, "there is nothing I could possibly want that comes anywhere near…" And he didn't know why but he found it impossible to get his words out, because as he gazed down at her (she was busy getting comfortable, the hem of her dress hoisted up around her waist, exposing the loveliest parts of her without even a second's hesitation or doubt), it hit him again how lucky he was. Here was a woman who loved him in spite of everything, who comforted him and who gave every bit as much as she took from what was blossoming between them.

"I haven't actually done this in a while," she said, managing to break through his train of thought, and he realised now that her hand was already at her entrance. He took a step forward so her knees were touching his thighs. "Not since…" She trailed off, looking a little sheepish, but at his questioning look, she said, "I… after I got back from Nanda Parbat the first time, I would… do it to remember you. What you felt like."

"You did?" he whispered, barely registering how low his voice had suddenly become. His gaze moved down as she slid a finger inside herself, and Oliver's arousal heightened at that, even more so when she let out a moan of her own.

"Yeah." Felicity's eyes were closed now, and he could see from her sharp intake of breath that she had just found her favourite spot. "I would – feel myself, just here, mmmm," she said, biting down on her lip appreciatively. The gesture was even more frustrating than usual, with the brightness of her lipstick. He ached to kiss her, but at the same time, he didn't want to stop her from what she was doing. "And I would remember our night together – how surprised I was –"

"Why were you surprised?" he asked, his breathing becoming heavy as he spoke.

Her finger slowed, still dipping inside her but less deliberate than before. She smiled. "Honestly? I didn't expect you to… go down on me. Not for our first time." She slipped a second finger inside now, letting out a long breath, before continuing, "And I would literally just be lying in bed, unable to sleep because all I could think about was how you felt, inside me…"

She continued the same movement, hips swaying a little, her hand moving rhythmically up and down in a way that was so mesmerising that he barely registered his own hand automatically going to his crotch. But to his surprise, Felicity beat him to it, swatting his hand away. "Uh-uh."

Obediently, his hand dropped to his side, and he sighed when she squeezed gently. "Felicity…" he said hoarsely, "oh, God, Felicity…"

"And I would remember how it felt," she continued relentlessly, "even better than all the times I had dared to dream about you… about us." The last of her words were punctuated with a soft groan, as she continued to touch and press and feel herself, while at the same time expertly coaxing his erection with her other hand.

And then her grip on him tightened, and she cried out, reaching her peak in a way he had never seen before – there was something softer, gentler and infinitely more erotic about an orgasm she had induced on herself than one Oliver had caused to happen. It turned him on even more, and it didn't take much for him to climax, right there, feeling the stickiness of his pleasure in his pants and on his thighs, Felicity's beautiful name dying on his lips.

She withdrew her hand from herself, and immediately, Oliver snatched it, sucking her fingers, needing to taste her. The tiny laugh that escaped her lips at his gesture only made him smile more before he kissed her neck. "Thank you," he murmured into her skin.

"My pleasure," she replied teasingly, and Oliver chuckled. She ran her hand between his legs, giggling when she felt the dampness of the material. "I should probably get this off you," she said, and he nodded in agreement – and he could feel his body was agreeing with her too as she slid off the desk and onto her feet, slipped her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down along with his pants. She knelt, lifting his feet one at a time before she successfully removed the garments from his body and straightened up (still on her knees), pushing her hair back.

Oliver knew what that meant. He had spent the past two golden weeks with her and knew full well, now, that this was what she inadvertently did when she…

"Fucking hell," he groaned, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop himself, and all she had done was wrap her hands around his erection and press an open-mouthed kiss on its tip. And when she took him in her mouth, as usual, Oliver tried his best to stay still, not wanting to make her gag but at the same time shuddering with the pleasure coursing through him at every stroke of her tongue. Felicity went deeper, and he thrust involuntarily in her mouth, biting his lip when he realised he had done so.

It was unexpected, therefore, when she withdrew, moving her mouth away but still holding him with both hands. "Hey," she said softly, looking up at him with her beautiful grey eyes, "just let go. I meant it when I said this is about you, Oliver."

The sound of her saying his name, the way her lips – red with smudged lipstick – formed each syllable, was enough for him to nod slowly, closing his eyes, and moments later, he felt her mouth close around him again. And this time, when she ran her tongue along his length, collecting the liquid that had leaked from him in the absence of her lips, he found himself thrusting in her mouth again, deeper than he had ever gone before until he was sure that he was touching the back of her throat. He groaned in satisfaction, and he reached for the hand that was resting on his stomach, locking his fingers with hers. She gripped his hand tighter as he rocked his hips again.

"Felicity, Felicity… I'm going to – Felicity, I'm coming –"

But her vicelike hold on his hand didn't loosen even a little bit, and he remembered what she said and let go, and a moment later, he came in her mouth, repeating her name like a prayer. He was looking down at her, breathing in sharply when she licked her lips before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Oliver reached out for both her hands so he could pull her to her feet, delighting in her giddy smile as he lifted the hem of her dress. Felicity put her arms up, letting him take it off, and he growled in frustration when it got stuck around her chest.

"I swear the ones without zips are supposed to be easier," he said, still pulling, but for some reason the dress would not budge. She just laughed, though, wiggling a little, and he tried again, surprised when it came off easily this time. He cupped both breasts with his hands, kneading, teasing her erect nipples until her back was against the wall and she was whimpering into his neck and he could feel his hard-on digging into soft, supple flesh of her thigh. He moved his hand downwards, slowly dragging his fingers between her legs. His fingertips immediately became wet once they reached her entrance, making her groan.

And then he felt her breath ghost on his ear as she whispered, "Oliver… need you… right now."

"Bed," he said roughly, barely even able to get out that one word and wishing the bed was not a good three metres away from them, but she shook her head.

"I don't think I could walk if I tried," she said.

Oliver couldn't help but agree. "Neither can I," he admitted, and once he saw the glint in her eyes (that told him she was thinking exactly what he was), her arms were already hooked around his neck as he lifted her off her feet. He was holding her by the bottoms of her thighs, and he asked quickly, "You okay?"

She nodded impatiently, and that only made him laugh, and his smile only got wider when he was inside her at last, for the look on her face alone. Felicity threw her head back, letting out a long cry of satisfaction that echoed around the room before landing a kiss clumsily on his mouth, her lips parted and her eyes closed in concentration.

"I love you," he gasped, and he groaned when her nails dug into his back, pushing deeper into her. Her lips were on a spot on his neck, sucking down with more force than he expected, while at the same time, her nails were setting his skin alight in the most wonderful way possible – but at his words, she looked up, her hand moving to his cheek, running her thumb across his jaw while simultaneously thrusting her hips against him.

"I love you too," she said, and the tenderness in her voice belied what she was doing with her hands (they were running down his back so she could cup him from behind). He pressed her against the wall, loving the sounds she was making as he thrust into her with all his might. "Oliver –"

"Felicity…" He buried his face in her neck, his mouth on her skin muffling his groan, so close to climaxing, and he could tell from the way she was shuddering beneath him that she was close, too. Oliver scrunched up his eyes, holding back, and when she rocked her hips against his one final time, he lost control and came, breathing deeply, but as he hoped, his orgasm coincided with Felicity's.

Panting, sweat trickling down her forehead and to her cheeks, Felicity looked up, meeting his eyes and smiling. "Happy birthday, Mr Queen."


End file.
